


can't pin it down, can't trace it back

by micksgotkicks



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Episode: s03e13 Will You Play With Me?, Episode: s04e05 Escape From the Happy Place, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micksgotkicks/pseuds/micksgotkicks
Summary: Quentin meets Eliot. Everything that happens after is meant to be, except when it isn't. The universe keeps them apart, except when it doesn't. Quentin falls in love with Eliot, slowly and all-at-once.





	can't pin it down, can't trace it back

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for everything up til s04e08 home improvement. there are lots of mentions of other relationships/friendships but nothing that strays from canon.
> 
> tw for depression (nothing worse than what's already been on the show).

_“Eliot, Eliot. Why do you care about him so much?”_

~

Quentin isn’t sure what to make of Eliot Waugh. When he first meets him, he’s lounging on the Brakebills sign, cigarette between his fingers.

They latch onto each other right away, and it's weird. He’s sure if Julia was here, he’d fade into the background like always. But the way Margo and Eliot pull him aside, casually put their arms around him and drag him along, tell him jokes that they don’t share with any other first years, makes Quentin think that maybe that’s not the case.

For the first time he has friends other than the ones Julia made for him, which, okay, that’s new. It shouldn’t be as exciting as it is.

Margo teases him, calls him a nerd, but they still talk about Star Trek and Fillory together. Eliot listens to him when he babbles about how unfairly hated the Hobbit movies are and helps him with his poppers. Even though he’s usually drunk, he always gets them right on the first go (and Quentin is always genuinely impressed).

They’re working on homework one evening, or Quentin is at least, when Eliot drops a bombshell.

“You’ve never seen Harry Potter?” Quentin gapes at him, baffled.

Before he can answer, Margo jumps in. “El says it’s too unrealistic and not nearly homoerotic enough.”

“What, and Gossip Girl is? You’re jokin—”

Eliot holds up an accusatory finger. “I’ll have you know, Blair Waldorf is the reason Bambi and I passed Mayakovsky’s course.”

Despite Eliot’s reservations, Margo and Quentin manage to pin him to the couch to marathon all eight movies. Eliot falls asleep five minutes into _The Chamber of Secrets,_ but they don’t care because at least he’s there.

“Not that he has anywhere else he can be,” Margo whispers softly, halfway through the fourth movie when they finally break out the liquor and are both mildly buzzed. Quentin isn’t sure if he’s meant to hear it, but he thinks about it more than he probably should.

Eliot and Margo even do their best to welcome Alice into the fold, despite hesitation from both parties, because she’s Quentin’s almost sorta girlfriend. And that’s what friends do, especially when you’ve got a magician with moths for a head out to kill you.

He falls into a routine with a pair of friends his shitty, teenage self would’ve balked at. It’s something Quentin thinks is akin to comfort.

His whole life he’s been running away, and for once, he feels like maybe he doesn’t have to.

~

Quentin’s a fucking mess.

 _But thank whatever put them on this Earth that I have Eliot,_ he thinks. And he’s drunk, so fucking drunk, trying to drown the wave of emotions the bottling caused. Everything’s a little bit blurry and he can’t tell if that’s from the alcohol or the emotions. Eliot’s on the floor next to him and he looks beautiful.

“I know I do,” Eliot muses, blinking lazily and taking another sip from his glass, and Quentin realizes he said that aloud. It’s true, why should he care? Everyone knows Eliot’s attractive. Hell, Eliot knows he’s attractive.

Margo helps them both upstairs to a room, he thinks it’s hers, but he honestly can’t tell. All he knows is that Eliot is pressed into his back and Margo’s in front of him and everything’s hot. Quentin feels more content than he has in his entire life, at least he thinks he does. That definitely might be the alcohol.

“You’re a bit of a lightweight, you know.” Margo phrases it like a question even though they both know she’s stating a fact.

“Am I?” he asks anyway.

Margo snorts. “Compared to El and me? Absolutely.”

It’s Quentin’s turn to snort now, but he sounds like he’s choking instead. “Anyone’s a lightweight compared to you two.”

Margo’s laughing out loud and Quentin can feel Eliot’s back shaking against him as he joins in. It’s ridiculous and not at all funny, not really, but Quentin doesn’t care.

After that it’s sex and kissing and even more sex until suddenly Quentin wakes up with a clear mind and just a few hazy impressions of what they’d done. Eliot is tangled around him, Margo nearly falling off the mattress next to him. It’s even warmer than last night and surprisingly comfortable, the sun filtering in from the window to their right. Quentin thinks he could stay like this, just for a while longer.

That is until he sees Alice at the foot of the bed.

Quentin tries not to think about what happened that night again. They have a Beast to deal with and Julia to help and his sort of ex to sort of save, but sometimes, when he’s alone, he thinks about Eliot wrapped around him.

~

Leaving Eliot in Fillory is hard. Quentin chalks it up to the fact that he’s leaving his childhood (and yes, ok, adulthood) dream behind. He’s a King of Fillory though, still, and he should be thrilled even if he doesn’t get to be there.

But his best friends are in Fillory without him. And Eliot is married. To a woman. Fen is hardworking and sweet and kind of a badass, when she wants to be, but Quentin has a hard time meeting her eyes on the rare occasion they see each other.

It doesn’t help with Alice taunting him. She may be a Niffin, but she still has the face of the woman he loves. She talks incessantly, sometimes about how he failed her, how he failed Julia, how he’s failed at being a magician. It hurts but it’s nothing his own fucked up head hasn’t thrown at him before.

But then she mentions Eliot, she mentions the drunken threesome and how bad of a friend Quentin’s been.

“He sacrificed himself to save all of us, to save you, and you left him in Fillory without a second thought!” 

Alice leans against the edge of the sink as Quentin tries to brush his teeth. “I don’t know, Q, but if I were Eliot and Margo, I wouldn’t be sparing you a second thought.”

He doesn’t dignify her with a response.

“They’re High King and Queen of Fillory, why would they need you?”

Quentin shuts the faucet off with a bit too much force. “They don’t.” He says it matter-of-factly, like maybe an admission will make her drop it. She doesn’t.

She continues prodding him with details he didn’t even know his Alice was aware of, and maybe she hadn’t been, but this Alice is.

He throws himself into trying to help both her and Julia. They rob a bank and if things weren’t so dire, Quentin would say it almost felt like old times. But then Eliot just has to jump between him and the battle magician, getting himself killed. He’s bleeding out on the floor, but Penny yells at him, tells him they have to go. 

They leave Eliot behind, but it’s not Eliot. Quentin repeats it over and over again as he lies in bed. _Eliot’s alive,_ Margo assures him. _He’ll be fine,_ she swears.

Niffin Alice doesn’t mention Eliot again after that.

~

Things go to shit. 

Magic is gone and it’s his fault. Every time they’ve tried to fix things they’ve just managed to make them worse. _He’s_ made them worse. Quentin hasn’t been on the verge of spiraling quite like this since before he started at Brakebills.

It’s always there, that needling feeling of self-hatred that leaves a pit in his stomach, that wave of depression that fucks him over time and again, keeps him from eating or even getting out of bed half the time. Going to Brakebills and learning magic hadn’t stopped it, but it had sure been the type of treatment his doctors and all those medications never could provide.

But Brakebills without magic, without Eliot and Margo, with an Alice who couldn’t trust him, wasn’t the Brakebills Quentin had fallen in love with.

The quest changes that. For fuck’s sake, it’s an actual, honest to god quest right out of a storybook and Quentin and his friends get to go on it. He knows he shouldn’t be as giddy as he is, but for the first time since before they defeated the Beast, his spirits are lifted.

“It’s not gonna be something out of the Fillory books or Lord of the Rings,” Julia tells him, because she can always read him even when he tries his best to hide it. “All of magic is at stake here.”

Quentin can’t contain himself, though. “I know.” 

And he does, but that’s not going to stop him. They’re going to bring magic back. They’re going to save Brakebills and Fillory and all the magicians out there who think they can’t live without magic.

Maybe he’s being too naïve, but he needs this, Julia needs this, they all need this right now. He thinks of Alice, trying to get by without magic, and he thinks of Eliot, far away in a castle with his crown hanging heavy and a fairy queen holding his kingdom hostage.

Julia bites her lip. “It’s gonna be dangerous.”

“Magic always is.” Quentin nudges her fondly. “But that’s what I’ve got you guys for.”

“Well if you insist on putting your life at risk.” Julia sighs, sounding indignant but he can tell she’s holding back a smile. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.”

She pretends to dramatically unsheathe a sword from the belt around her waist and sets it on the table between them. “You have my sword.”

Quentin can’t help but laugh. “And you have my bow.”

~

It’s nothing like they expect. Sometimes it’s easier than they think, like when Julia manages to steal the truth key from Irene McAllistair. Sometimes it’s not that simple.

Penny dies, kind of, and Kady must pick herself back up. Julia has magic, somehow, and does whatever she can to use it for good. Eliot and Margo are still under the thumb of a puppet master, or fairy master, if he wants to get literal.

Alice is still not quite Alice, but Quentin is finally able to start accepting that the woman he knew is gone. And maybe that’s okay. It’s hard for him, but she has her own story now and it doesn’t have to revolve around him.

Between it all, though, there’s adventure. Whether it’s fate or destiny or completely fucking random, Quentin doesn’t care. He feels like he has a purpose for once. He’s not just the bumbling protagonist of some shitty fantasy drama. Even the stunted, awkward moments between Alice and him don’t seem as awful as they used to.

He gets to see Eliot again even though it’s been ages. It cheers him up, going on an adventure with one of his best friends. It feels like so much time has passed and yet none at all.

It’s a quest unlike the last two, sending Quentin and Eliot back to Fillory in the past, long before the Chatwins. They both accept it without too much thought or hesitation. A life with Eliot would never be a burden, Quentin is sure.

The first year of putting together the mosaic is hard. It’s frustrating as hell and every week Quentin lies awake at night wondering if tomorrow they should call it quits and try to go home. They don’t.

On their one-year anniversary of working on the mosaic, Quentin and Eliot celebrate. They spread out the blanket Eliot found in the cottage that evening with drinks in hand. They clink their glasses together, reminiscing on the “old days” and wondering what’s become of their friends.

It’s dark out and when Quentin looks over at Eliot, bathed in the warm light of the torches, he feels his heart flutter in his chest. It’s a thought Quentin buried, deep, deep down after the incident with Margo long ago. But now, it resurfaces to the top of his muddled thoughts, standing out like a lighthouse on a stormy night.

 _Eliot is beautiful,_ he thinks, _so unfairly, naturally, beautiful._

Quentin has always known this, undoubtedly, but it’s never made his heart beat erratically or his palms grow slick with sweat before.

“Hey,” he says, and god, Eliot is smiling at him like he’s hung the stars or something equally as cheesy.

“Hey.”

Before he can chicken out, psych himself up or read too much into it, Quentin kisses him. It’s quick and chaste and barely longer than a second, but it’s enough to make him want to do it again.

When Eliot continues to smile at him, sliding his hand around to the nape of his neck and drawing him back for another kiss, Quentin is sure his heart almost gives out.

Eliot pushes him down, so gently, until his back is pressed against the blanket. Quentin reaches up, tangles his hands in Eliot’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer as they kiss under the stars. It’s like something out of a terrible rom-com. Quentin never wants it to end.

~

There’s no way to describe what suddenly getting a lifetime of memories back feels like.

Quentin can’t tell if it’s more like being high or being hungover, but better and so much worse all wrapped into one. They’d lived a life together. Quentin had married and had a son and lost not one, but two people he loved. He’d watched Eliot die, buried him, solved the mosaic, gotten the key.

Except that never happened. Kind of. Margo had stopped them before they had stepped through the clock in the first place. They shouldn’t remember a thing. It’s complex and paradoxical and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but when has anything in the past two years ever actually made any sense, really?

All that matters to Quentin, sitting beside his best friend, his soulmate in another life, among the remains of Margo’s disastrous wedding, is that he remembers. He remembers everything in a vivid detail so unlike a dream that there is no way it could be anything but real.

He remembers falling in love with Arielle, marrying her, having a son. He remembers losing her and Teddy leaving home. He remembers grandkids coming to visit and hot days spent in a hammock with Eliot by his side. 

And Eliot was always by his side through everything. Every day during the labor of piecing the mosaic together to the long nights after they’d lost Arielle. He’d been in love. They’d been in love and it had been beautiful. It had to be or Quentin would have never found the key. The life they lived had been the mosaic, “the beauty of all life” needed to complete the quest.

So Quentin goes out on a limb. He’s beneath a wedding arch with Eliot, a best friend, someone he’s desperately in love with. He wants this and maybe it’s the years of emotions making him brave, but he doesn’t care.

“I know this sounds dumb but us—” Quentin chances a glance at Eliot, “—you know, think about it. We work. And we know it ‘cause we lived it. Who gets that kind of proof of concept?”

Eliot leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees with a look on his face that Quentin knows he’d never get tired of waking up to.

“We were just injected with a half-century of emotions, so I get that maybe you’re not thinking clearly.”

“No, I’m just saying, what if we gave it a shot?” The confession feels natural on his tongue, not something bred from a sudden onslaught of decades of memories rushing back to him all at once. “I mean, would that be that crazy?”

Eliot stares at him and he’s still so beautiful. Without his crown and royal garbs, he’s just the Eliot that Quentin has always known. And loved.

Quentin keeps his voice quiet, as if this moment they have on the steps of the throne room will suddenly be shattered. “Why the fuck not? I—”

“I know you,” Eliot interjects, shaking his head, “And you…aren’t…”

 _Gay?_ Quentin finishes silently, even though Eliot of all people should know that’s not an issue in the slightest. “What’s it matter?”

“Don’t be naïve. It matters.” Eliot’s voice is firmer this time. “Q, come on. I love you, but—” he swallows, “—you have to know that that’s not me and that’s definitely not you not when…not when we have a choice.”

Quentin can feel the pang of his heartbeat up in his throat. It hits him slowly, but the realization of being in love and then immediately being rejected gives him whiplash. He feels numb and broken all at once.

“Okay, I…okay.” He wipes a tear away as casually as he can because fuck, he can’t cry right now, not in front of Eliot. “Sorry, I..” But he doesn’t know what else to say.

It’s not Eliot’s fault that he’s not in love with him, that he probably would’ve never been in love with Quentin in the first place had they not been the only people in that fucking cottage. It’s not his fault that all he wants is Eliot, that suddenly the one thing he desperately craves he can’t have.

It feels like ages until Eliot finally gets up, offering a hand to pull Quentin to his feet. His touch is warm and comforting and gone way too soon.

~

He tries not to think about Eliot and for a while, it works. It’s an adventure on the high seas like he’s always dreamed! His own boat and first mate, sort of, and nothing but the fresh, ocean breeze of Fillory for miles. Even at night when he’s in bed, quietly wishing Eliot is there next to him, the waves gently rock him to sleep.

“I’m so glad High King Eliot asked me to come along on your quest,” Benedict says for the third time that evening as they eat dinner.

“We, uh, make a good team.” Quentin tips his glass at him.

“That’s very kind of you, but…” Benedict’s usually cheery expression falters. “I’m just here as moral support, really. The High King could have chosen anyone.”

Quentin smiles as sincerely as he can. “He told me you’re the best mapmaker in Fillory. Who better would there be to help me explore the Abyss?”

Benedict blushes at the compliment. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Really?” Quentin shakes his head, biting into one of the strawberries from his plate. “’Cause Eliot wouldn’t send just anyone on a quest to bring back magic, trust me.”

Benedict is tomato red now, and it’s almost comforting to Quentin that, for once, he’s not the most awkward person in the room.

It’s probably for the best that Eliot didn’t come along on this one, as much as Quentin wanted him to. Knowing himself, he’d be following Eliot around the ship like a lost puppy right about now. That’s what he’s positive Julia would say, at least.

The adventure and the fresh air keep his mind off his problems, and he decides spending time with someone not immediately involved in the quest or his personal life is doing wonders for his mental state.

Just as Quentin thinks he’s got this one in the bag, things go to shit again.

There’s something off about Poppy. She’s pretty, he supposes, and he tries to focus on her instead of the person he’d rather have sitting next to him. It’s harder than he thinks.

And then she gives him the fucking key, the one key that Quentin should in no way, shape, or form be anywhere near given his history with, to put it bluntly, severe fucking depression.

Instead of being lulled to sleep by the waves, he gets berated by a manifestation of all his flaws. It tells Quentin every time he’s fucked up, every person he’s hurt, everyone who probably certainly without a doubt hates him—Alice, Margo, Penny, Eliot, all of them.

Quentin makes it through, thanks to Benedict, except, Benedict doesn’t make it through. Even though Poppy helps him get the key back from the underworld, even though he sleeps with her in desperation to maybe get the thought of Eliot out of his head, things are still shit.

The quest loses its shine, slowly but surely, as anything involving real magic does. When Quentin finally makes it back to a bed, he cries himself to sleep.

~

“This is not what we agreed on.”

Quentin can’t tell if he’s angry or terrified or relieved. But he stares Eliot down, or as down as he can stare someone a good few inches taller. Eliot looks as unruffled as he always does, but there’s a glint in his eyes that Quentin can’t quite read.

“I didn’t actually agree on anything, but I did decide that one of my best friends wouldn’t spend the rest of his life locked in a prison, guarding what turns out to be a really not-so-scary monster.”

Before Quentin can argue or even begin to scold him about how dangerous and stupid that was, how he could’ve gotten himself killed and that’s exactly what Quentin is trying to avoid—

“Wait.” Eliot’s voice is quieter, less determined. “Where’d she go?”

Quentin turns to see the lifeless body of the monster, limp on its back with a supposedly god-killing bullet in its chest. But no sign of Ora. A lump forms in his throat. 

_Why would you risk your life, all our lives, for me?_ Quentin wants to ask but can’t find the guts to open his mouth.

Eliot meets his gaze, still unfazed. “Anyway,” he says, grasping Quentin’s shoulder roughly. “It’s done.”

Quentin wants to shake his hand off, tell him that what he does is none of Eliot’s fucking concern, but they’d both know he’d be lying. The truth is, he hasn’t seen Eliot this cold and calculating before, not like this.

“You spent a little too much time as a King.” He can hear the anger in his own voice, but he still lets Eliot drag him back down the dark hallway.

“Well, that’s really not an issue now, is it?” Eliot tightens his grip on his shoulder. “I think you’ve spent a little too much time playing the self-sacrificing hero.”

They glare at each other, but there’s hardly any heat in it. Quentin wants to ask him what it means, if Eliot still cares, even if it’s not in the way he wishes Eliot did. But he can’t, not now. He swears he’ll bring it up later, after they get magic back.

But Alice betrays them, which he almost understands. Almost. And Julia gives up her powers and the Librarians show up with Irene, and Quentin quickly realizes he’s lost his chance.

~

When he first gets his memories back, the pain is sharp and focused.

Quentin is caught in an endless cycle and he’s never felt more helpless in his life. He hopes, prays to whatever god will answer his prayers even though the gods they’ve met so far haven’t instilled a lot of faith in him. Maybe Eliot is still in there somewhere, beneath the shell the Monster has carved out.

But Quentin’s dad dies and Julia struggles and the Monster tells him his worst fear: Eliot is dead. Then Alice comes back, after fucking them all over. He knows he shouldn’t be mad at her, not as much as he is, but everything hurts and anger feels so much better than the empty weight of knowing he’s lost Eliot.

They decide they have to end it. It’s the only way. The Monster will keep killing gods, hurting Quentin and all his friends if they don’t.

Quentin stands in the park, watching what’s left of someone he’s tried so desperately not to love approach. He tells himself it’s just the Monster, nothing else, but it doesn’t help.

“Quentin.” The Monster raises a hand, its lips twisted in a smile so unlike Eliot’s it makes Quentin feel sick.

He tries to find something, anything to say, but he can’t. It hurts too much.

The Monster stumbles and out of the corner of his eye, Quentin sees Alice get to her feet, jar in hand.

“Q,” it says, and Quentin hates it. He hates that this thing inhabiting Eliot is calling him that.

“Q.” It laughs, voice hoarse like it’s using it for the first time. “It’s me. It’s Eliot.”

“Ok, no games, c’mon.” Quentin reaches out, anxious to get the Monster close enough so Alice can drench it, so they can finally be done with all this, so he doesn’t have to look at the face of the man he loves knowing that it’s not actually him staring back. “Let’s just go.”

“It’s Eliot.” Its voice is firmer. The Monster looks serious, worried, very unlike the Monster right now. Quentin can’t do this, not while knowing that he’s just being toyed with. _It hurts too much._ And if he hesitates then he’ll probably lose Julia and Alice too, and he knows he won’t come back from that.

“Bullshit, c’mon.” _This isn’t Eliot,_ he tells himself, a mantra he’s been repeating in his head for days.

“Fifty years.” The Monster steps closer, slowly, with its arms spread. “Who gets proof of concept like that?”

Quentin’s heart stops. “What?”

The Monster—no—Eliot, is standing in front of him now. He shoves his shoulder, looking down at Quentin with those hazel eyes he hasn’t seen, really seen, in months.

“Peaches and plums, motherfucker.” Eliot is smiling, grasping his arm. “I’m alive in here.”

Quentin forgets how to breathe. His world seems to slow and center and focus solely on Eliot, standing in front of him. Eliot, who’s alive. He’s _alive. Alivealivealive._

“Eliot.”

Then Eliot’s eyes flutter, and Quentin knows. It’s a blur, of Alice pouring the liquid, Quentin pushing him out of the way, the Monster disappearing, ripping out Iris’ heart.

Shoshana’s on the ground, Julia hanging over her lifeless body. Alice is silent and furious next to him. But it’s all background noise to the thrumming of his head, the realization that’s left Quentin’s fingers tingling and his breath erratic.

Eliot’s alive.

~

Quentin’s head is still spinning, he hopes from whatever the dragon egg did to him. He knows the truth, but it’s easier to blame Poppy and a dragon than it is to confront what’s actually eating him up inside.

“How are you feeling?” Julia drops down next to where he’s sprawled on the couch.

“I should be asking you that.” He sits up with a grunt, his back cracking in an ungodly way.

Julia pats his knee, shaking her head, and Quentin is thankful that he still has her. She’s been there since he was younger and even more awkward than he is now. She’s the one that introduced him to Fillory, started it all, really. She’s a best friend, a lifeline when he’s needed it most.

“I told Kady what happened to Shoshana,” she says, “But it doesn’t feel right talking to her about—”

“Other Penny?”

Julia laughs bitterly. “She’s still struggling with the whole thing, and I can’t say I blame her.” She bites her lip. “But at least the guy she’s in love with isn’t being inhabited by a god-killing Monster from the end of the world.”

Quentin knits his eyebrows together. He knew it was going to come up. It’s the elephant in the room and she’s known him for too long not to have picked up on it. After what happened in the park, however, he’d be shocked if everyone who’d seen him didn’t know. 

Alice does, even though she refused to say anything about it. That isn’t a conversation he wants to have with her of all people, though.

“I can’t lose him, Jules.” He pulls a pillow to his chest. “I don’t care if he loves me back, the way…the way I love him but…”

Julia presses her hand to his arm. It’s a small comfort. “We’ll get him back.”

Quentin thinks it should be weird to say it out loud, how deep his feelings for Eliot really are, and maybe it would be if they hadn’t spent a whole lifetime together. Even though Eliot turned him down, even though Quentin spent months trying to brush his feelings aside, it slides off his tongue with ease and puts a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He closes his eyes, rests his head on Julia’s shoulder, and thinks about Eliot. He thinks about days spent piecing together mosaics, afternoons outside the Physical Kids Cottage lying tipsy in the grass, being kings in Fillory and Eliot sneaking into his room that night he couldn’t sleep so Quentin would play cards with him.

There’s an ache in Quentin’s chest that reverberates up and down his torso and out his limbs. He feels tears pricking the corner of his eyes, wet and stupid and awful because Eliot isn’t there. He’s stuck somewhere they can’t get to him, not yet anyway. Trapped in his own mind, held hostage by the Monster in his own body.

 _But Eliot’s alive,_ Quentin tells himself. And it doesn’t matter what he has to do, he’s going to get him back.

~

_“Because I do.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i've been itching to write these two for a while now, so i really hope you enjoyed! come yell at me about queliot on tumblr at [lovelyquentin](https://lovelyquentin.tumblr.com/) and [micksgotkicks](http://micksgotkicks.tumblr.com/).
> 
> title comes from one more time by research materials (aka the song the official magicians twitter account used for their [ queliot fan video](https://twitter.com/MagiciansSYFY/status/1098977968196444160) ;)
> 
> kudos are appreciated and comments are read aloud to rabbits and delivered to fillory.


End file.
